


Even Your Sperm Is Mutant

by Pineapple_Strawberries_15



Series: Mutant Sperm Series [1]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Mpreg, cross dressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-13
Updated: 2014-11-13
Packaged: 2018-02-20 23:45:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2447477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pineapple_Strawberries_15/pseuds/Pineapple_Strawberries_15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A request fic! </p><p>Erik is a victim of his own genetics, or possible Charles' mutant sperm, and gets a bun in the oven. Chaos will ensue, there will be blood, and there may be some flowery dresses and frilly underwear. </p><p>(This will be a Multi Chapter fic! I've never abandoned a fic, so have no fear.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Don't Vomit On The Dinner Rolls

**Author's Note:**

  * For [clearsky66](https://archiveofourown.org/users/clearsky66/gifts).



Charles and Erik didn't often surprise their little adoptive family, after a few years of living together and supporting one another in their endeavors, you get to know the nuances of each persons personality as well as basically everything that's happening in their lives; whether it be over dinner rolls in the dining room, or in the hallways being screamed at 3am. It wasn't that the little family didn't TRY to surprise one another though. They did. They really, really, really did. Maybe it was just blind, desperate, hope that they had some semblance of a personal life still.

 

Basically, it hadn't come as a big surprise when Charles and Erik had ordered a “family meeting” in the living room one lovely fall day. They did that every so often, usually to discuss a broken window, fur in the shower drain that needed removing (which would become a tangent about cleaning up after ones self), or even occasionally a mutant in need of assistance. Surprisingly, the manor wasn't taking in people unless they NEEDED a place to stay. Erik had vetoed the freeloading thing and Charles still wanted to be a Professor (he had a job damn it); sanctuary, sure, but things in the mutant community had shifted dramatically since the Cuban Missile Crises. A good chunk of the worlds population was still basically bigots, but a greater chunk had demanded Mutant rights. And they got most of them. There was still a ways to go, but it was moving along. And all of mutant kind had great activists from all corners of the world, doing their best to ensure equal rights. It was hard, but it was getting done.

 

Anyway, surprises. . . it was not even a surprise when said family meeting was just Charles and Erik “coming out” to everyone.  
“We already knew, you morons.” Raven said as affectionately as she could manage.  
“My room is. . .well, I hear. . .” Alex grumbled and gestured with one of his hands as if he could communicate just what he'd had to go through.

“You both give major sex eyes, dudes.” Sean proclaimed with a shit eating grin.  
“Can we go now?” Whined Angel and Emma.

 

Again, most things were public knowledge at the manor. People knew when one of the longer residents was going away for an undetermined amount of time, or when someone was sick, and who was banging who. Surprises had been thrown out the window long ago. But then, one day, Erik finally surprised them all. When he stoically vomited during dinner in the dining room. Thankfully it had hit the floor. Mostly. Okay, actually, no. No. Someone vomiting was not a surprise, it happened. But Erik did NOT get sick. Ever. He was this tall, slender, brick wall of a man who seemed impervious to all illnesses while his lover got whatever managed to be contagious. Erik getting sick meant something was very wrong.

 

Erik was immediately forced into Hanks lab for tests. He was poked, prodded, and nearly punched the occasionally blue-furry man in the face for pressing on his stomach.

“Well, you're pregnant.” Hank stated bluntly, backing away to avoid his parental figures wrathful gaze. Erik whipped his head to glare at his lover, “ _ **your**_ mutant sperm,” he snarled.

 


	2. I Can't Make Heads Or Tails Of This

Erik spent that first night after discovering his pregnancy just pacing his and his lovers bedroom. He could not sleep, he definitely couldn't eat, and despite the nausea and the ensuing migraine, he could not stop pacing. Anxiety rippled in his chest and an uncomfortable heat radiated from him; Charles, thankfully, said nothing. He didn't ask Erik any hard questions, didn't pry into his mind, he sat on the bed with his hands clasped together while he stared at the floor. Still, the air was stale and stifling with everything that would eventually need to be said.

 

The minutes ticked by, it turned into hours, and Erik didn't relent his pacing. He resisted the bubbling of his stomach and the pricking of his eyes and finally, finally, he stopped. “I had a family before all this, Charles.” He grit his teeth as he said this; and Charles did not say “I know.” But Erik knew he did know, he knew of the little girl and the wife. “I've been hell bent on revenge my whole life, yet I made the mistake of settling down. I made the mistake of bringing a kid into this world with someone and it all. . .went. up. in. flames.”

 

Erik sighed, sat heavily on the bed, and threw himself back, arms stretched and limp. Charles swallowed, “I had a son. Before all this.” His lover turned to look at him, lips pressed thin and brow furrowed in confusion. Despite the English mans back problems, he too laid back, copying the others form. “What happened?” Erik asked, licking his lips and zeroing in on Charles' icy blue eyes. Without missing a beat: “Brain damaged in the womb. Didn't last a week outside of it.”

 

The silence stretched after that, the anxiety cutting into Erik's chest and attempting to pry him open from the sternum; like a frog being dissected while still alive. He imagined the skin and muscle and ribs exposed and being cracked and pinned to a little metal dish. “Come back.” Charles whispered. Erik swallowed, suddenly parched and unable to handle what was happening. “I don't know. I don't know if I can do this.” He didn't say sorry, and Charles did not protest this.

 

–

The morning found Erik sipping coffee just as the sun was lighting the sky; a to-do list set in front of him. He had no qualms with abortions; but he didn't know if he wanted that just yet. Despite how emotionally taxing this whole thing was, he didn't want to just throw in the towel and expect the worse. It was hard, and he was paranoid, but he needed more time. According to Hank he was already a month in, he still had some time to decide. He knew he'd have support regardless of his decision, and it was HIS decision. Charles never openly said he wanted to raise the child with Erik, but he never said he didn't, he supposed maybe he should go ahead and ask.

 

But Erik was indeed the most awkward human being there was. He came off as either mentally unstable assassin who could rip out your throat with just his mind, or like a cold brick wall, but in reality he was just socially inept and couldn't communicate worth a shit. Having a telepath for a boyfriend had it's perks, but Charles didn't enter his mind unless Erik outright asked. It was a pain in the ass for Charles to avert his mind from Raven and Erik, he literally had to shut off all connection from their minds and getting back in was just as painful as blocking them off. So it would seem Erik would actually have to talk.

 

_And so, a new mission was set._

_**Operation: Ask Boyfriend If He Wants To Start A Family** _

 

  * Erik almost asked Charles over breakfast, but ended up having to leave the room due to the smells of meat and eggs; suddenly horribly disgusting.



 

  * The next time he tried was when Charles was showering, but that just ended with the two doing some rather naughty things. And believe me, doing naughty shower things with Charles having to grip the handicap safety bars to keep his weak hips and legs from bucking without his lofstrand crutches was an amazing feat with Erik doing. . .what he was doing. “Um, were- oh, um, not that I'm not really enjoying that dear, but were you going to tell me something?” - “I'm trying to focus Charles.”



 

  * Erik then forgot about it as his “Morning” sickness hit him in the late afternoon. He ended up hunched over the toilet for several hours, wondering how it was possible he'd eaten so much without realizing it. No, he would certainly remember if he had!



 

Finally, at bedtime, Erik did ask him. “Hey, I forgot to ask. Want to raise this thing with me?” Charles rested his book on his lap and his eyebrows seemed to raise farther than they should, “You only now remembered to ask this?” He smiled warmly and let his fingers run threw Erik's hair, “If it's what you want, I would love to raise this thing with you.” The Polish man sighed, “well, I still don't know if I can do this.” He let his head rest on Charles' shoulder, “sometimes I wish the answers were clear and in front of me.”

 

“Do you. . .do you want to flip a coin?” Had it been ANYONE else, they would have slapped the idiot from Charles, but it got a genuine- snorting- laugh out of Erik. “That's an idea!” After five minutes of tear jerking laughter from the both of them, Erik did grab a coin. “So, heads is abortion or adoption and tails is raising.” The coin was expertly tossed into the air, and suddenly Erik's smile faded, something sparked in his brain, the metal of the coin pulsed deep within Erik, and the ultimate decision was made.

 

Charles breathed out the air he didn't even know he was holding inside himself, “We're going to be parents.” Erik just grinned.

–

“FAMILY MEETING! COME ONE, COME ALL, FAMILY MEETING!”

“This is NOT the circus, Cassidy. Tone it down!” Angel covered her ears as she flew to the family room. “What is going on now?” Sean just shrugged, “Hell if I know.” All the young adults, some older, filed into the room and leaned or draped themselves across some piece of furniture or wall; meanwhile Erik stood with his arms crossed in front of the TV. Charles stood next to him, haphazardly waving a crutch (being smart didn't mean he thought things through) with a welcoming smile as he sat on a chair next to his lover.

 

“All here? Good. I'm only going to go through this once.” Erik snapped, they all flinched and wondered what the hell they had done this time. “We're going to be baby proofing the mansion this weekend; that means once it's baby proofed you all will do your best to keep it that way. You will not destroy the property if you can help it and you will, from this point on, do what you can to assist Charles and I. We will be busy, tired, and I will not always be the peach I usually am. Understood?”

 

It took them all a moment to get what was being said. Raven was the first to widen her eyes and let her mouth go slack with realization. Slowly, one by one, they seemed to grasp Erik's meaning. “So, you dudes. . . there's going to be the pitter patter of little feet? Awwww.” Sean said, grinning, “can I touch you?” Yeah, okay, Sean was obviously on something. “No Sean, you may not. . . but yes, there's going to be a small child coming into this world in about 8 months.” And then, much to Erik's chagrin, the room exploded into hugging and cheering and idiotic questions such as “where's it going to come out?”

 

“What have I gotten myself into?” Erik asked, trying to inch away from his insane adoptive family.

Charles laughed and shook his head, “at least we'll have plenty of nappy changers.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. In some comics, Erik did have a wife and daughter who were burned alive in their house. Usually this is because the people in the area discovered Erik was a mutant. 
> 
> 2\. Charles did/does have a son. One who is mentally unstable. I can't recall too much about him without looking him up. 
> 
> 3\. Basically: Charles wasn't COMPLETELY paralyzed in Cuba, but he did sustain damage.  
> He uses what are called 'Lofstrand crutches,' in order to get around. They are forearm crutches; people who have injuries or disabilities that effect mobility often use them.  
> He DOES still use a wheelchair on occasion, and I may put that in this fic, but it's not all that important right now.
> 
> 4\. I will literally write as much as I can come up with for each chapter; I want them to be long, but not too long. I'll do my best, but I am a bit rusty.


	3. Too Much Information

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Months 3 and 4. Trying to put little drabbles for each month, going to try to have longer and more in-detail, dialog friendly, chapters whenever I have time to write one. Bare with me? I may not like my writing too much, hopefully you readers do! 
> 
> Oh gosh. x_X
> 
> ( I originally was going to do a one shot fic for this whole thing. . . hopefully readers like this better and don't stop reading!)

Hank was being completely unbearable.   
Hank was completely insufferable.   
"Hank needs to STOP following me around with pregnancy books!" Erik growled in frustration to his unsympathetic looking lover. Charles sighed and scribbled more notes on some document he was working on before actually bothering to speak. "He simply wants to inform you of your progress and what's to come. A little information can go a long way." At this point, Erik was pacing and his breathing was ragged, "I am not a woman! I do not need to know how my areolas are going to darken!"   
"But you do have areolas and breasts, we should probably assume-"   
"Do they look swollen to you, Charles?!" Asked Erik, near hysteria though he would never admit to being hysterical because he was obviously the pinnacle of sanity. Charles set down his pen and raised his hands defensively, "look, it doesn't matter. So long as you hit the basic stages and you're healthy."   
"But you don't deny my breasts look swollen," Erik deadpanned, "Fine then." He stalked up to Charles' desk, swatted his pen off it like an irate cat, and left the room. 

 

 **Correction** , thought Charles, **Erik was unbearable his third month.  
** -  
Erik was one of those people who vomited a lot the first couple of months, and then came to a dead stop by the third month. His third month had gone smoothly and he barely even noticed he was pregnant, but Hank had reminded him often enough. As did his body image. It wasn't that Erik was vain, but he needed to come to turns with his body a bit. He had always seen his body as something built for fighting, for killing, for full on war and the occasional education of young adults and nurturing of vehicles. He ate what he needed to get by in the past, but now he didn't need to. He was rough and crude and he didn't know if he could be a mother and he certainly didn't look like one right now.    
He was going to be a mother.   
The mere thought of it made him tear up a bit and made him spend hours alone contemplating the whole thing. Erik didn't actually care much about his own gender- he knew he was genetically male, but he knew he'd be just as indifferent if he'd been born female- and just as freaked out about having a little. . . **thing** inside! Currently, he sat in his and Charles' bedroom, a hand rested on his stomach, pondering how in the world he could be a nurturing, gentle, loving mother. That was Charles' job, damn it! But, he had to admit, his heart softened at the thought of holding an infant again. He wasn't sure if he was ready to be a parent again, but he was ready to try. 

 

While Erik was contemplating, so was his lover. The thing was, Charles had body issues of his own to work out. Charles, unlike Erik, was indeed a bit vain. He liked his hair and his naturally lean body, his pale skin and even his eyes. He knew he was attractive. It wasn't necessarily his appearance that was bothering him though, it was his body in general. He could barely walk, needing support or a wheelchair, and he certainly couldn't stand up straight or lift anything very heavy. It made him frightened for his child and his lover; he didn't want Erik to have to handle everything baby related by himself, but Charles feared he wouldn't be able to hold his baby- what if Erik ended up not wanting him to hold the child? What if Erik ended up distrusting his physical ability to the point Charles would never know the weight of their child?   
  
The rational part of his mind knew that Erik would never do that, would never withhold the child. It didn't ease him though, because he didn't even trust himself to hold a child. Children needed to be bounced and rocked and held for long periods of time. Children needed to play and run and wiggle. Charles could not stand for long periods of time and he could not run, he could wiggle, but not as much as he thought would be useful when playing games. Again, the rational side of his brain contradicted all of that and he knew what he could do- it was just his own insecurities getting the best of him. Charles felt a bit. . . ridiculous and self centered, thinking about all of that while Erik was going through so much just carrying the infant. He pushed it all to the back of his mind to open another day.   
  
-

Erik despised his fourth month with a murderous passion. If he could murder his fourth month, he would. One day he was all slender and hard edges and the next his chest was puffier, his jeans didn't fit unless he kept them unbuttoned (which left him with sweatpants until Charles ordered him larger pants), and his turtle necks made what looked like a pot belly, visible. His nipples chafed too, and he's pretty sure that's the worst of it. He's wrong. One afternoon he's messing around under the hood of a car, the next he gets a head rush and ends up slumping on the floor trying to make his head clear. It keeps happening, and happening, and happening. It's AWFUL. Hank, of course, starts pushing more books his way and tells him to remain hydrated and well fed and blah blah blah. He's damn well hydrated and fed enough. Nobody seems to have a solution to his problem though. He ends up laying on the couch for long periods of time each day, napping, and that helps, but it doesn't necessarily fix anything. He can barely remember his first wife's pregnancy after all this time, so it's not as though he has the information from memories. Plus he tries not to think about it.

  
One day, after being nudged to the couch to rest by a warm Charles who unfortunately can't lay down with him, Raven sets a bottle of pills on his swollen looking belly and grins, "who's the best sister-in-law in the universe?" His brow furrows and he grimaces, looking at the bottle, "iron pills?" She nods slowly, white teeth contrasting sharply against her blue skin; she sits down on the coffee table, adjusting her blouse, and leans forward expectantly. Erik, meanwhile, reads the label before popping the top off and dry swallowing a coupe tabs, "I'll thank you if they work." he mumbles, curls up, and tries to sleep despite the glare he knows is being directed at his back.  

 

To his grudging appreciation, they do diminish the dizzy spells, he still gets them, but he's confident they'll eventually come to a stop.   
"Say it!" Raven is ~~stalking~~ following him through the halls, despite his attempts to walk faster, demanding his undying gratitude for going to the drug store to pick up something she was probably taught in school or by her adoptive mother. "C'mon, you are so laaaaaaame!" She rants like a child, though her voice holds no malice.  
  
He refuses to give in. Even when he and Charles are laying together in bed and she's whispering through the door.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm dead tired, so I'll leave this tonight. Must sleeeeeeeep. I hope everyone enjoys it, though it is a bit drabble like. I'd like to get into the pregnancy feel of each month, but don't worry, you'll all get your kinkiness soooooooooon. ;) Like, so much kink. KINK. KINKY. OH YES. (Soon Erik will be getting bigger and he'll have no choice but to wear. . . mmmm.   
> Okay, I'm going to bed now. . .


	4. Terrifying Facts Of Life (A list of things nobody told Erik.) PART 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I'm so slow to update.   
> For the past couple of weeks I've been taking care of my grandpa, my niece/nephew, and trying to stay caught up in school. It's piling up and making me too tired to do much. I should have more energy by this weekend so I can start popping out chapters again. Sorry it's taking so long.
> 
> For now, here's a weird little blurb of a chapter to get you by. It's incredibly short, but it's something.

**Nobody told Erik he'd have horrible gas.**    
  
Gas happens to **everyone** , including the great and powerful _Magneto_ , but he didn't know it would result in the evacuation of entire rooms. It happened at the most inopportune time too. He was sitting with his feet up on Charles lap; the Englishman gently rubbed his feet instead of eating his own meal. He was in his stretchy pants and a loose t-shirt, in the dining room and very comfortable thank-you-very-much. One hand rested on his swelling stomach, the other was casually putting food into his mouth. Everyone was pleasantly eating and things were rather happy and calm- when suddenly, Erik felt bloated and his stomach felt uneasy. He leaned forward slightly and gripped his belly in discomfort. Then, likely from the depths of hell, a smell rose. "Holy shit, was that you?!" Raven gasped, covering her face with a grimace. Sean was laughing hysterically, Hank "couldn't even," and Emma was probably going to kill everyone. One by one everyone left the room- though Erik was certain they wanted to slam through the door frame at once. The only one who didn't budge was Charles. "Why are you just sitting there?" Erik snapped. His lover grinned, "well, it's not as if I can get very far, very fast," Erik snorted, "Also, I don't mind your smells very much. Remember, I share a room with you." 

"You are _**such**_ a charmer."

 

**Nobody told Erik fetus' eventually grow fingernails.**

In the early stages of his pregnancy, Erik had had done everything but throw Hank's baby books into the fireplace. He didn't want to touch them with a ten foot pole unless he **needed** the information; but by the time Erik couldn't see his own feet and he found he preferred the fabric of night gowns over his nipples to the harshness of wife beaters, he could barely put baby books down. The information was horrible, gross, and fascinating as hell. One night in particular though, the found himself sitting in bed with a Charles snuggled up at his side and a baby book resting on the mound of his stomach- when a sentence caught his eye. ". . . ours already has fingernails," he whispered. "Hmm?" Charles drowsily glanced at the book in the others hand and nodded, "yes, fetus' grow fingernails at about 12 weeks. Ours already has them."     
  
The look on Erik's face was one of shell shock. "What if it tears through my stomach with it's nails?"   
"It would have to get through the womb first, dear." Erik pushed Charles gently and shook his head, "Alright, alright. I'm fairly certain it's not even possible for a fetus to do that. Maybe it's time to put the book down for the night. . ." The taller man gripped the book and shook his head, "no- what if our fetus is already a manifested mutant and it rips me apart? You aren't taking this seriously. . . _stop. laughing._ " Erik was growling and Charles was barely containing himself. By morning, Erik was sharing his theory with the mansions residents, much to their horror. 


	5. Why was 6 afraid of 7? Because 7. . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! Man, I've been so busy I've just been passing out as soon as I get home without a thought to writing. Alright, we're gunna do this. I'm going to write this thing tonight even if it KILLS ME. AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGH!

If people were usually afraid of Erik, because he was a tall glass of water built like a machine who could tear you to shreds with just his mind, they were even more afraid of him by the time he hit his seventh month of pregnancy. He was being unbearably kind to everyone- he would smile and laugh and coo over baby crap- it was unnerving the household; except for Charles who took everything as it came and loved Erik no matter what. Nobody in the house could very well ask him to tone it down, they were just as scared of Erik bursting into fits of rage after all, so they grudgingly accepted the cheery Erik who invaded every inch of the home with sparkles from 4am to7pm. (7pm was usually when he passed out, exhausted.)

 

 

He was sporting a rather sizable bump- bigger than a beach ball, smaller than a **really** big beach ball- but he waddled and it was terrifying to be chased by a tall, waddling, ex-assassin with paint samples for the nursery. Due to his increased size, every bit of him was a little softer, including his personality; his jaw was a little less defined, his hips had flared out and his bottom had an even sexier curve to it, his thighs were plump as well as his upper arms; his chest had softened considerably as well, the only thing hard about the man at the moment were his eyes (fierce as ever) and the baby bump. Charles absolutely adored every extra bit of his lover, most likely just happy he wasn't any taller, and Erik seemed to be appreciating it too.

 

He'd taken to wearing maternity dresses and while the masculine face didn't fit with the billowy- stretchy- material, his body did so rather nicely. Erik was very particular about his outfits, though due to his rounded facial shape he had forgone any turtlenecks. He seemed to like black lace at the hems and dark flowers if there had to be flowers. Black was the preferred color, but he didn't mind teal. At the moment, in fact, he was wearing a nice teal dress (shut up Alex) that managed to cover his swelling ankles, but did nothing to hide the growing bump and swell of his chest. Nobody really cared all that much what Erik wore, or what anyone wore, so despite the initial weirdness Erik was free to wear whatever he wanted. Though most of the residents of the mansion drew the line at anything too S&M. 

 

At the moment, Erik was pouring over little paint swatches on the living room couch with Charles, attempting to decide the nurseries color. He didn't want the infant to have to stare at the dull, stuffy, British colors Charles' ancestors had decided on. Charles couldn't say he disagreed. "How about powder blue?" Asked Charles, pointing at a little swatch. Erik clicked his tongue, "I don't want to have to change the color of this kids room too much over the years. Maybe we can mix powder blue, with that odd Dijon mustard colour and that brown we both liked. Brown base and stripes of powder blue and Dijon mustard." Charles shrugged, he didn't much care so long as the wall got painted and Erik was satisfied with it.  

 

While Erik marveled at colors and their combinations, Charles marveled at Erik and his Erik-ness. He leaned in towards his lover and let his forefinger and thumb rub against the soft hem of one of Erik's sleeves. Slowly, his hand moved up the others arm and made it's way like a spider to his bump. "Hey, you didn't ask. That's probably some form of harassment." Erik lightly tapped Charles' nose and grinned; paint swatches fell to the floor as the two leaned in close to one another, "Is that your cane, or are you just happy to see me?" asked Erik, "Darling, what would my cane be doing in my pants?" The two broke out in snorting laughter in between tiny kisses and moving hands under shirts and up stretchy dress material and stretchier pants (because Erik in no way wanted to feel a breeze). 

  
  
Meanwhile, in the arm chair on the **other** side of the coffee table, a furry blue mutant sat and sipped tea- trying to imagining flowers and science instead of the groping parental figures in front of him. 

* * *

 

 

"Which looks better?" Erik questioned his lover one night before bed, holding up two rather comfortable looking nightgowns. One was a black maternity nightgown with plenty of lace, while the other was a button up flannel. "Neither, come to bed without them." Charles murmured, not taking his eyes off of his book, but Erik wasn't listening of course. "The flannel is rather warm, but the black satin feels nice. Charles? Charles. Charles!" said Englishman jumped, "wha-what? What is it? Are you alright?" Erik rolled his eyes and slid into bed with the sleepwear, starkers I might add, and took Charles' book. "Physics and their Theories?" Erik read, and then tossed the book onto the bedside table. "More important things than physics. Sleep comfort. Help." He lay beside his lover and held them up. Charles sighed and took the garments, "well. . . on the one hand, flannel is rather warm and it is made of brushed wool, so it's soft. . . but the- the silk? Yes, that's got quite a nice feel, and you know, I can always keep you warm." He waggled his eyebrows, but when he turned to his lover, the man had his head cocked back and mouth open- snoring. "Really? Really? Bloody hell, new record. My voice puts you to sleep doesn't it? It does. I could be talking about Armageddon and you would be dozing off." Erik snorted, mouth quirking, "OH! OH! I SEE HOW IT IS!" Charles grumbled while Erik was bursting into a laughing fit. Charles grabbed the comforter and tossed it over Erik, "well sleep in that, Mr!" 

* * *

**  
  
  
**The seventh month brought very little problems for Erik, nothing he hadn't handled throughout the other six months. It brought a contented feel, actually. He wasn't ill, he was tired and for once he didn't mind laying on a couch for a nap. As his energy dwindled, so did his will to fight it, and it gave way to a plump and contented ~~shark-~~ man. All his energy was focused on baby related things, eating, sleeping, and messing with Charles. It was a good month, really. He didn't feel that nervous about the arrival of his child, in fact he barely thought about it. He was more concerned with protecting, nourishing, and spending time with the fetus until it became a screaming, needy, infant. Life was good- and it helped that the sex was fantastic, when it was had. Plus, it gave him a great excuse to wear the most bad ass nightgowns and maternity dresses- and occasionally lacy underthings. He liked lace, damn it, and there was nothing wrong with that! But. . . yes, the seventh month was a month of calm.

  
The calm before the storm. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. . .basically writing whatever pops into my head. Structure? What is structure? 
> 
> As you can probably guess, the next chapter will be the eighth month. Which will most likely be written up tomorrow. I will also try to get the ninth month up tomorrow. I'm going to try and finish this sometime this weekend.
> 
> If this sucks, I'M SORRY! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!


	6. Ate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Get it, ATE?!  
> Because Seven, ATE. . .   
> I'm so creative.
> 
> Anyway, short chapter- because I'm pretty tired, but at least things are moving.

Erik's eighth month was absolute hell.   
  
His feet were swollen, as were his ankles; so he couldn't even wear shoes. Not that he'd want to go outside. A chill had fallen over the area, and with it, snow; he didn't mind the weather, but the baby apparently did. If he was cold for more than a few minutes at a time, he had to pee. Actually, he had to pee when he stood up, when he drank a teaspoon of water, when he sneezed, and when the baby was just being active. "I don't even drink enough to constitute this much pissing!" He often raved, having to waddle his way to the bathroom. That was another thing! He felt over-sized and heavy, whereas a few weeks ago he didn't. It was like, suddenly, he had gained 200 pounds and it was all in his bones. He had gotten a little bigger in the last month, but not enough to explain why he felt so very heavy. He needed help sitting up, sitting down, and even moving sometimes! Hank, of course, had a logical explanation for it, that Erik ignored because he would really rather grumble about it.  
  
Okay, so it wasn't **so** bad. The worst of it was mostly the spawn within him kicking and punching his innards, random morning sickness, and headaches for being awake for more than an hour. He couldn't wait to just **not** be pregnant anymore. Occasionally he got a little teary from everything, or furious, but mostly he was too tired to emote much. Charles was doing everything he could in order to make him more comfortable and make life easier. Erik, honestly, felt bad for Charles. More often than not he had to bug the poor man in the middle of the night to help him up or to drop whatever he was doing to get him something because the distance winded him. His tiny Charles would of course beam at him no matter how tired he was and use all his strength to help him get around, despite how difficult it was on his own back- or how difficult it already was for him to move. He was a trooper. He'd strap on his crutches and leave the house at 4am in a blizzard for ice cream if Erik suddenly had a craving. Honestly, Erik was worried- so he made a vow to ask as little as possible from the other, despite how well Charles saw right through him. 

 

Recently, Erik had taken to sitting and dozing in the nursery, in fact, that's where he currently was. He was all cuddled in his flannel nightgown and tightly hugging a shark toy (Raven had basically dumped a box of baby stuff she'd gotten from a dollar store into a little basket), and sleeping with his cheek pressed to the toy. After torture and horrors and years of fighting, running, fires, revenge, and destruction, he was finally settled and content- regardless of what the little maniac within him did to his body. He was unguarded and Charles stared at him from the doorway, an adoring smile on his face. It was moments like these that made absolutely everything worth it, and soon they'd have a little potato of a child that would make walking on hot coals worth it. Hopefully they wouldn't have to do that. . . but still, worth it. Every second and everything they would have to do.

\--

**Weirdness. . .**

\--

It was a beautiful winter day when an orange exploded before Erik had time to un-peal it.   
"What the hell?" Erik whispered, not certain what to make of it as he wiped the juice and pulp off his face.   
He didn't feel like an orange anyway. . .  
  
Now, Erik was used to weird. He lived in a house with mutants and was one himself, but he was pretty certain nobody had juice-bending powers. He decided to put it to the back of his mind though. Unfortunately, it wouldn't be the first time food exploded in front of him. If he wasn't eaten what he craved, the food would explode or fling itself away. He immediately ruled out ghost. "Maybe our baby is a mutant?" Charles suggested. They both paled- the thought of a food exploding baby was pretty terrifying to them both. They hoped the baby couldn't destroy much more than food. . . More weirdness started to arrive around the same time food started exploding. Suddenly the baby within Erik was jabbing him mercilessly a few times a day. It was like the kid was trying to run laps or something. Erik thought he could handle all of this, but after a while he had to go to Hank; dragging Charles with.   
  
"I'll have to do ultrasound." Hank had murmured, digging through the labs equipment. Most ultrasounds had failed on Erik- whether because of his metal bending blood interfering somehow (like a radio frequency) or because of the fetus itself. "I think I can get through this time; It's taken a bit of tweaking, but I think my ultrasound can work through your interference." Yeah, if anyone could solve problems, it was Hank. "Go lay down on the infirmary cot and I'll have a look."  
  
And look he did. Erik could barely make heads or tails of the image, but apparently there was a kid in there. "Two, to be exact. Hard to tell their sexes, but they look pretty normal." Erik hissed, "two?! Two!?" While Charles was euphoric looking. "Two mutant children!" Hank was staring intensely at the screen with the blurry children, brow furrowed, "Yes. . . but one of the babies keeps. . .flickering." The two soon to be parents tried to spot it, and eventually noticed every once in a while one of the fetus' would sort of flicker, slowly. That must have been the one kicking the hell out of Erik. The other fetus seemed pretty content to just lay there, but neither of them doubted for a moment that the lazy little thing was probably the picky eater.   
  
  
"Well, we're going to have our hands full!" Charles exclaimed while Erik just slowly nodded, too stunned to say anything. Now, it wasn't has if he wasn't happy- he was incredibly happy to be having two kids, but he was realistic. He was a little frightened to try and handle two manifested mutant babies. Charles gripped his hand, he turned to look up at him, and in that instant he knew they would manage. "We can do it," he whispered. Charles nodded, leaned down, and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, "we will do it."  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhhhhhhhh. So short.


	7. NINE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *hyperventilates*

Twas the month of eventual induced labor, and all through the house, every creature was stirring, Erik felt as big as the "house." The nursery was cosey, warm, and painted with delicate care, in the hopes that the babies would soon be there. Erik was nestled, growling in bed, while visions of revenge and cheese fries flew through his head.   
  


Charles was there, all dressed in tweed; while on the bed Erik sat, getting ready to doze for his mid-morning nap. When all through his stomach, there was such a clatter, he grit through his teeth "somethings the matter!" _**Charles immediately started correcting his phrasing, which sort of ruined the poem and was also rather irrelevant, but I digress.**_  
  


Away to Hanks lab, they wobbled down the hall, threw open the doors, and for a furry blue mutant they did call! Erik's nightgown was bunched in his pale trembling fist, and from his eyes water did flow, into the lab- they must now go. Suddenly, to Charles wandering eyes, a pink-purple portal from Erik's stomach did appear. "What the fuck!?" Erik raved, _**seriously not sticking to the poem AT ALL. THANKS ERIK.**_

 _ **  
**_And suddenly Hank was lively and quick, grabbing a scalpel up and trying to find a place he could nick. More rapid than The Flash, Erik was pushed onto a metal table, and to an ultrasound the blue mutant did dash. Before he could do much, through the portal did come, a tiny black haired female, and all their blood cold it did run. **(Did that even make sense? their blood cold it did run. . .)  
  
  
 _"Baby one, what'll you name her?" Hank asked as the portal closed, quickly removing and tying up the umbilical cord. "Wanda. . ." Erik breathed, "but what about the other one?!" Charles exclaimed._** _  
  
  
_Over the next several hours, Erik was in much pain, and not even showers could lessen his strain. _ **Little Wanda was snug in a little yellow blanket, on a bassinet beside the bed.**  _Meanwhile Erik was repeating a mantra of breathing, trying to keep his chest heaving, __**though he was adamant that it was pointless and did nothing.**

 

Breath in through the mouth.  
Breath out through the nose.  
"Get this blasted child out! Out, out, out!"   
Hank took up his hand, nodded his head, and as he picked up the scalpel, Erik's chest filled with dread.   
  
  
 _ **Luckily Hank did remember to give him some drugs.**_

 

From within Erik's womb, there was a fluttering, of fast little feet kicking. The metal-bender wondered if the child may burst through. Erik counted backwards from ten, and the room faded instead.   
  


* * *

  
"Erik dear? Oh good, you **are** waking up!"  
"Sugarplums dancing in my head?" Erik asked his lover groggily, who responded by giving his lover a concerned look. "No. . .not that I know of." After a few minutes of dizzily staring at the ceiling tiles, Erik felt halfway normal again and looked around. "Where's the baby?" To this, Charles smiled, "he's beside his sister in the bassinet. Would you liked to hold them?" Erik just nodded slowly, and soon he had two little bundles in his arms. "Wanda and. . .did you name him?" Charles shook his head, "well you should. I named her, you name him then."   
  
Charles looked thoughtful for a minute, then grinned, "Pietro!" Erik stared at him in disbelief, "you want our child to be beat up." He brought the boy closer to his chest protectively, _"papa is evil, Pietro."_  And yet, the name stuck, but they agreed to let the child be called Peter if he someday decided it was a must. The mansion had two little wrinkly red bundles known as Wanda Ana Lehnsherr-Xavier and Pietro Max Lehnsherr-Xavier; and while it was scary, they were confident that the two infants would grow into fine people- so long as their already manifested mutant powers didn't destroy them all first. . .

* * *

* * *

  
While juggling two children with an affinity for destruction, and the duties of running a household full of mutants, much of Erik's baby weight did eventually wave a handkerchief goodbye. That wasn't to say he didn't still have some rather. . .lovely softer areas that Charles absolutely adored, but it was much more comfortable to slip on lacy undergarments for some fun when there wasn't a large baby bump making things difficult. You'd think that after the twins were born Erik would have stopped wearing dresses and lacy things, but he couldn't really hide who he was. He was comfortable in many outfits, many different types of clothes, and nothing was just for men or women to him. So did he occasionally pop on a red wig and a sparkly blue dress, pretending to be Raven? Damn straight. Did he occasionally wear black see through lace underpants while pinning his lover to the bed? Oh yes. Yes he did.   
  
Erik wasn't a vain man, but he swore he looked even more fantastic after the twins birth than he did before. He liked every new added flesh and mark to his body- he wore his skin with pride! Except he didn't pull a Raven and walk around naked in front of everyone. **(Not that there's anything wrong with nudists.)**  Charles found himself running a hand up the slightly muscled, yet soft, plains of his lovers stomach quite often. His hands slipping through the panties and cupping his lush buttox. Just thinking about it made paperwork very difficult and shame on Erik for purposely directing dirty images into Charles' mind when he knew there was work to be done. DAMN HIM!   
  
Charles threw down his pen with a growl, grabbed his lofstrand crutches, and started practically racing through the mansion to find his lover.   
He found him in the nursery about a half hour later- out of breathe and irritated.   
Erik was gently rocking two swaddled twins, sleepily letting his head fall back, humming a seemingly unintelligible tune. Charles raised a finger and breathed in to say something, but then just let it drop; moving the the chair opposite the rocking chair, watching his resting family. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This last month took place in December, in case nobody knew why I was suddenly bursting into Holiday poetry. . . Plus I have peppermint chocolate covered snowflake pretzels I found at the store. . . 
> 
> ANYWAY! HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT. If I add another chapter, like an epilogue, any preferences on what it should be about?

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, kind of a kickstart for the first chapter. Not that great, but eh, I try.


End file.
